


Beneath Your Feet

by bluester007



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But it's there, Depression, Dissociation, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, Nico-centric, Other, Post-Giant War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Relationships aren't the focus, Swearing, all characters are present but not all of them are mentioned, and aren't actually mentioned at all, canon divergence after HoO, it'll make sense if you read it - Freeform, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 23:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10864782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluester007/pseuds/bluester007
Summary: Short Nico-centric fic post-war with the seven + Nico living together in New Rome. Just them all being there for each other, and particularly Nico in this fic.May possibly be continued or part of a series? (no promises)





	Beneath Your Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Setting the scene:  
> I kind of picture them all living together in New Rome after the war, and they all share an apparement, bar Frank and Hazel, because Frank's Praetor and Hazel lives in the barracks (because she's like 13 in the books, she's just a baby - although this would be a couple years after). Also Leo tends to fly back and forth between the camps on Festus (I think that's spelt wrong) so he's not always there. 
> 
> Man, I haven't written for PJO in years, and that's kinda tragic because it was my all time favourite series as a kid (along with Gallagher Girls, of course), and it will always hold a very special place in my heart. But I haven't read them in so long, especially the first series, so I can't remember a lot of details. So this is just a quick angst fix.  
> I’ve got nothing against Nico/Will – they’re adorable. But it doesn’t work for what I had in mind for this story so. Also I’ve been a die-hard Nico/Percy shipper for years so (and what’s great about Percico is that it means Reynabeth can happen, which is just all kinds of fantastic). But I didn’t want to make this shippy (*shocked gasp*) because it's purely focused around Nico and it's only brief.  
> I remembered that the song Soldatino by Paola Bennet existed and I had to listen to it (because I hadn’t heard it since high school and MAN was that a while ago) and it gave me those feels right in my chest. I wanted some of that Nico angst that we’ve all seemed to have forgotten about with the whole cannon Solangelo. (I mean, I love the kid, he is a beautiful little angel (lol) who deserves wonderful things, but I’m a masochist and I live for angst, and Nico is the literal embodiment of the word.)  
> I've got some ideas for more that might fit into this verse, but I can't promise anything because i'm Unpredictabe (*cough*inconstitant*cough*).  
> I feel like all their PTSD is just brushed aside (because let's face it, they're all disasters after the shit they've been through) so I kinda have some ideas I want to explore, but I need to read the books again first. I've got notes made for more, especially Percy-centric post-Tartarus stuff (I want Sally's & Paul's reaction and how they deal with his trauma, because I hate myself and want to bring pain). So. Just idea. No guarantees.

Nico comes to in the kitchen. Foggy and disorientated, he finds himself sitting, hands crossed on the table, with two faces hovering in front of him. He blinks, frowns, feels the muscles in his face fold and crease. He pulls his hands apart, runs them across the table, feels the chipped surface beneath his fingers, the scratches in the long, smooth grain of the wood. He breathes deep, counts the seconds in and hold and out and hold. His tongue prods at his cracked lips, and he realises how dry his throat is, like he’s swallowed sand.

A glass is nudged in front of him, and he picks it up, notes the chill of the ice and the condensation seeping into his skin. He chugs it greedily, wiping his sleeve over his mouth and slamming the glass back down with a loud _clink_ that almost makes him jump.

“How long?” he asks, voice scraping, eyes flitting between Jason and Hazel in the seats across from him.

Hazel gives him a small, strained smile.

“Not too long,” she says in a low voice. “Just over an hour.”

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, cringing as his fingers slip through grease.

“Did I…” he trails off, not wanting to ask, but he knows he won’t need to because-

“You were muttering a bit about the Doors,” Jason tells him. “Mostly you just stood by the window-” he gestures to the sink and the broad windows above it “-until we made you sit down.”

He sighs again and rubs his eyes.

“I’m fucking wiped,” he mutters.

“Language,” Hazel and Jason scold simultaneously, automatically. He glances up at them, and they both look so startled that he manages to crack half a smile.

“Fucking sorry,” he says, just to see their faces, the identical stern, disappointed parent frowns that scare the shit out of everyone else. Not Nico, though; he’s long immune to parental let-down.

“Think I’m gonna crash,” he says, his chair screeching against the floor when he stands.

“Nico,” Hazel says, and he pauses. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want company?”

There’s a flutter of something warm and pleasant in his chest, and he gives her a smile. He steps around the table to drop a kiss on her hair.

“I’m good,” he tells her, squeezing her hand. “Thanks for worrying, though.”

“I always worry,” she says, squeezing back.

As he turns to go, he spots a rack of blue cookies cooling on the counter, and all at once he’s assaulted by the sweet, gooey smell of butter and chocolate. His mind seems to snap back, then, like a rubber band in rebound, after its been stretched out and out and out.

He snorts. Percy must be home.

He showers, washing the grease from his skin that’s been building up all week (he really needs to work on that) before climbing into bed, pulling the covers up over his ears. He listens to the hushed voices of his friends filtering through the walls for the better part of an hour before he finally falls into a deep sleep.

* * *

Hazel and Percy drag him out of bed at around seven and bully him into some clean clothes. Then he’s standing in the kitchen listening to the chaos of seven demi-gods bustling around and getting their shit together to go out to dinner while a heavy exhaustion sets into his bones. There’s cotton stuffed behind his eyeballs and in his skull, and his limbs feel weighted, arms hanging limply at his sides, hands stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie. He wants to go back to bed. He wants to go back to sleep. He wants to sleep and not wake up for a month or ten, or possibly ever.

Jason’s a constant at his side as they walk through the streets of New Rome.

“Hey,” he says lowly, lightly nudging him with his elbow. “You good?”

Nico shrugs.

“You look tired.”

Nico scoffs. “No shit.”

Jason rolls his eyes, slinging an arm over Nico’s shoulders.

“You know we all care, right?”

He glances sideways at Jason. “No shit.”

“No shit,” Jason agrees, nodding sagely. He’s silent for a few steps. “How you feeling?”

Nico sighs, dropping his head back onto Jason’s shoulder. _Like death_ , he almost says, but someone has to draw a line at shitty humour somewhere.

“Crap,” he admits. He learnt the hard way that there’s no point lying to Jason, or any of the others. After the Giant War, they’d all been a mess, and they’d learnt pretty quickly that the best way to get through it was together. It’d been hard at first, sure, and especially for Nico, who’s used to keeping his feelings to himself, bottling them up until they explode in bursts of battle-driven rage. But somehow, they’d all muscled their ways into each other’s lives until they’re practically dependent, eight lives bundled up and tangled together in a cohesive, functioning mess.

They’re a psychologist’s worst nightmare – and Nico knows all about nightmares.

“Crap as in, ‘I spent my morning in a dissociative fugue’, ‘I spent the whole day sleeping and I just woke up’, or ‘I’m an emotional mess please help me’?” Jason asks. “Oh, or what about ‘I haven’t eaten all day and probably yesterday, too’?”

“Crap as in my brain is an asshole who’s decided I’m possibly due for another depressive episode,” Nico says. “But probably a little of all of those, too.”

Jason turns himself so he can half look at Nico. “You been taking your meds?”

Nico nods.

“Okay. We’ve got you, bro. Anything you need, just ask.”

The corner of Nico’s mouth quirks up. “I know.”

Piper, at his other side, wraps an arm around his waist. Unsurprisingly, she, along with half the group, most likely, was listening in, and Nico can’t be annoyed because he’s used to it by now. They all live in each other’s pockets. There’s no secrets – there’s no point, it’d all come out eventually anyway. When you live with five other people, and two others just around the corner, who’ve shared some of the same shit you have, it’s to be expected. Misery likes company.

Piper rubs her hand up and down his side soothingly and presses a kiss to his cheek. “We love you, Nico,” she says, “and we’re always here for you.”

“Always, bro,” Percy calls from the front of the group, shooting a grin over his shoulder. A handful of smiles are sent his way – and a kiss blown from Leo.

”I know,” he says again, and this time his smile reaches his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda short and crappy but it's 1am and I need to sleep and I cbf doing anything more so. I'll probably come back to it and fix some of the shitty writing, but eh.  
> Comments make me smile! :)


End file.
